


darling I hope that you'll be here when I need you the most

by thekaidonovskys



Series: we found love in a hopeless place [17]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom Clint Barton, M/M, Sub Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: "Fuck, Clint, move -" is all the warning he gets before Steve comes barrelling in from the kitchen. Clint turns, looks up, and the entire left side of the house comes crashing down on top of them.Naturally, the next couple of seconds are a bit confusing.When the dust settles, Clint does his best to cough most of it out of his lungs, then attempts to sit up. The large wooden post over his legs halts that movement in its tracks.[Even heroes need saving. Clint has always trusted Phil with his life for a reason.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it's been so long. I'm sorry. Real life and all that - and this would have taken longer still but I decided to just make it two chapters so I could at least post something for you now. Enjoy!

"I've gotten seventeen compliments on my new collar this week," Phil informs Clint on Saturday afternoon.

Clint smiles. "I'm fond of it too," he says. "So the first week of being formally collared has gone well then?"

"Apart from nosy people, it's really not been any different." Phil sets his book aside and rests his head on Clint's shoulder. "Nobody's even dared to try and get your permission to talk to me this time."

"Just wait for new intake," Clint says, and Phil groans. "Wait - how were people seeing your collar anyway? I've never seen it at work."

"Like I said; really nosy."

Clint laughs, shifting his tablet to his other hand so he can stroke Phil's hair. Phil hums happily and falls into a contented silence, and Clint relaxes into it. It's so nice to get a Saturday off.

He really needs to stop thinking these thoughts. The second he does, Phil's phone rings, and it's the tone they both know so well. Clint sighs as Phil sits up and answers, immediately serious. "Coulson," he says. "What is it?"

He listens for a minute, then hangs up without a word. "Need us?" Clint asks, ready to grab his gear and call the team.

Phil shakes his head, already headed for the bedroom for his own kit. "I need to be in position with a stealth team downtown in half an hour."

"I can do stealth."

Phil returns, bag in hand. "I also need the Avengers on standby," he says. "Have everybody ready to go."

"Will do." Clint kisses Phil quickly. "Be safe."

"I always am."

Clint watches Phil leave, tamping down the various surges of emotions that hit him every time Phil goes into a dangerous situation - which, considering their line of work, is with a stupid regularity. It's always hardest when they've both had to switch this suddenly too, from personal to professional. Clint is feeling frustratingly protective, and there's nothing he can do.

Sighing, Clint gathers his gear and heads down to assemble the team. If nothing else, they can all gossip while they wait to see if they're needed.

***

When the call comes through, Clint hits speaker - then they all wince as the sound of an inhuman shriek can be heard. "What the fuck?" Clint asks.

"Your backup is required," Phil says calmly. "Their lab has released a creation designed to destroy." There's a barrage of gunfire in the background, and Phil sighs. "If shooting it didn't work the first eight times -" he mutters, then stops. "Quick as you can, please, Avengers."

"On our way," Steve says, and Clint ends the call.

"I'll fly ahead and take some tech," Tony says. "Sounds like it might be susceptible to sonic."

"Exactly what I thought," Bruce says. "Take the whistle."

Tony salutes him and heads for the lab. Clint glances at Natasha, and they roll their eyes. "Let me guess," she says, "a really powerful dog whistle?"

"Basically," Bruce says with a shrug. "Are you driving?"

She grins. "Since you asked so nicely."

There's a few groans, but mostly for show. Natasha will get them there the fastest, with only the illusion of impending death around every corner. And she won't get them lost on the way, as nobody will ever let Clint forget or live down.

(Clint's pretty sure the main reason Phil moved into the tower in the beginning was to be their designated driver.)

***

By the time the team arrive, it's really only cleanup they're in charge of - Tony and Bruce were right after all, and Phil's team have the creature captured and ready for transportation back to SHIELD. It resembles a giant gorilla, and Clint is so glad to see that it's lab-made, not a mind controlled animal.

When Phil sees them, he hands over to Maria and joins them, Tony following a moment later. "Avengers," he says. "Thank you for coming. People were still in those buildings when it attacked, and most of them are very unstable. We need a fast rescue sweep through the twelve affected blocks. Speed and strength teams - Stark and Widow take the north side; Hawkeye and Cap to the south. Thor, eyes in the sky and be where you're needed to airlift any injured to us. Dr Banner, another set of hands in the medical tent would be very helpful. Barnes, with me. I can't send you out with them, since you're not officially sanctioned yet, but I can use your help."

Everybody obeys, splitting up and taking off. "Is Buck still not allowed to work?" Clint asks as they start up their first block.

"Hasn't been bothered to jump through all of the hoops to get certified," Steve explains.

"Makes sense. Paperwork is a bitch."

No more conversation happens for the next while as they work. Thankfully only a few houses had occupants, and most of them are unhurt, milling in the streets in shock. Clint and Steve guide them to the operations base, alerting Phil every time they send a new one over. They have to enter every building to check for any injured or unconscious citizens, but make it as quick as they can. Some places are near ruin, others look more stable but they still aren't taking any chances. Just because they can't see any structural damage doesn't mean it isn't there.

The good thing about an op like this is the constant feedback to Phil. By the time they're done, Clint's report will all but be written for him. Clint estimates this being wrapped, paperwork and all, in the next four hours, which means he might even get Phil out of his office in daylight hours. They have tentative dinner plans at an obscure diner they both love, and Clint intends to uphold those. A night out is still so rare.

With that in the back of his mind (but never close enough to impact on his work because Clint's a professional agent), Clint works on being as efficient but thorough as he can be. He sees Thor fly over a few times, but luckily nobody on their blocks so far have needed his assistance. By the sounds of Natasha's reports, things are a bit more damaged on their side. Miraculously, though, no fatalities have yet been recorded.

"Final block?" Steve asks as they round the corner.

Clint nods. They've worked from the back forward, so the next block is Phil's team and temporary base. "This one isn't so pretty," he says, indicating a house on the right. "Let's start here."

Steve follows him in. The house in question has a large hole where the front door used to be, making access pretty easy. "Hello the house!" Steve calls, and they both pause to listen. "Hopefully empty?"

"Hope so," Clint agrees, and they split up. "We're pretty damn lucky this thing picked a weekday," he says to Phil.

"We can't rule out it being a lenient warning," Phil says. "Where are you?"

"Just sweeping the las one now now," Clint says, walking through what must have been a living room while Steve checks in the kitchen. "This one is a bomb site, but nobody around so far -"

"Fuck, Clint, _move_ -" is all the warning he gets before Steve comes barrelling in from the kitchen. Clint turns, looks up, and the entire left side of the house comes crashing down on top of them.

Naturally, the next couple of seconds are a bit confusing.

When the dust settles, Clint does his best to cough most of it out of his lungs, then attempts to sit up. The large wooden beam over his legs halts that movement in its tracks.

Clint stares at it for a moment, heart in his throat, because he can't feel his legs and this can't be it, this can't be his retirement -

Then the pain floods in, sharp and so welcome. There's stinging and stabbing, and something is definitely broken, but nothing serious - and as far as he can tell, there's no other injuries. He hasn't even hit his head.

Clint really does understand how lucky he is in times like these.

"Hawkeye?" he hears in his ear. "Captain?"

Captain. Steve.

Clint turns to look for Steve, and finds him a few feet away, out cold. Clint can't get any closer, but he can tell from here that Steve's breathing and there's no blood. He's also not trapped. Thank god.

Just as Clint breathes a little easier, the roof groans above his head. Clint slowly looks up, and sees the foundations gently swaying. At his best guess, they've got minutes before the roof goes the same way as the wall - and there’s another beam, just as heavy as the first, poised right above his head.

Perhaps he isn't as lucky as he thought.

"Barton," Phil says sharply. "Do you read me?"

Clint lifts his hand to his earpiece, so relieved that his arms seem to have escaped intact. "I read you," he says.

"What's your status?" Phil demands, and it's only because Clint knows him so well that he can hear the hint of panic in Phil's words.

"Alive and kicking," Clint says, then winces. "Okay, well, alive at any rate. Cap's unconscious, but I don't think he's bleeding or anything."

"Think?"

"Can't really check. I'm kind of... stuck. We could probably use some backup."

"I can be there in ten," Natasha says.

"Five," Thor says.

"Now," Phil says as he kicks rubble away to Clint's right, Bucky at his side.

Clint turns his head, trying not to let his smile look too relieved. "Impressive as ever, sir," he says.

Bucky and Phil both pause for a second to take the situation in, then split - Phil goes to Steve, Bucky to Clint. "Hey," Bucky says, crouching next to the pole and taking a good look at Clint. "Let's get this thing off you, shall we?"

"That'd sure be nice," Clint agrees. "Got a jack?"

"Got a metal arm," Bucky says, waving it at him. "I'll try lift it first, because it's gonna hurt you more if I have to break it - but be ready to move because I sure as fuck don't want to drop it back on you."

"Watch out for splinters," Clint jokes weakly.

Bucky rolls his eyes, wrapping his arm under the beam. "What part of metal arm don't you get?" he asks, and lifts.

The beam creaks a little, but doesn't budge. Bucky's cockiness immediately falters. "It's not moving," he says.

"Oh yes it is," Phil says as he checks Steve's head for injuries. "This roof is coming down, and he's getting out before that happens."

"Get Steve out first," Clint says firmly.

Phil turns, meets his eye for a moment, then nods. "Bucky, help me,” he says, and Bucky abandons the beam to join Phil, lifting Steve between them and taking him out into the road.

Clint watches them go, then glances up at the roof when it creaks ominously. "I don't think so," he says to it. "Phil Coulson said no."

Maybe he did hit his head at some point - but either way, the roof doesn't fall. That's a personal victory right there.

Bucky and Phil return, crouching either side of Clint's legs to look at the beam. "We need a fulcrum," Phil says, and turns to look through the rubble.

"What's that, some kind of fancy lifting machine?" Clint asks. "Probably won't find it in here."

A fulcrum turns out to be a brick, which Phil wedges under the beam a few inches from Clint's left leg. "Okay, Bucky, be ready to lift," Phil says. "I'll counterbalance. Clint - it's going to hurt, but move the second you can. On three." The roof creaks, and Phil's expression tightens. "Three," he says.

There’s a second where it seems like it’s going to work - the beam shifts, just an inch - but it’s not enough. “We need Tony or Thor,” Bucky says. “Even Steve couldn’t lift this.”

Phil’s already calling them both in. “Bucky, out,” he says when he’s done. “Go check on Steve.”

Bucky looks set to argue, but stops, clearly remembering that this is a different situation and he’s under Phil’s authority. “I’ll keep an eye on the roof from outside,” he says.

“Not that it’ll help much,” Clint mutters once he’s gone. “Best he can do is yell that I’m about to die.”

“That kind of talk is completely unnecessary,” Phil says, sitting down next to him and cupping his hands around Clint’s head, checking for injuries. “The others will be two minutes, tops.”

The roof groans, dust drifting down, and Clint shakes his head. “You need to leave, sir,” he says. “No point in you being trapped in here too if that next beam comes down.”

“It isn’t coming down,” Phil says calmly, continuing his examination of Clint’s upper body. “Can you feel your legs?”

“Yeah - I’m lucky some of the other debris stopped it from actually crushing them. I’m going to be a sea of bruises come tomorrow, though, and I’ve definitely broken an ankle again.”

“I don’t understand how your ankles manage to fuse back together these days,” Phil says, barely flinching when the roof creaks louder.

Clint does, though, glancing up at it. “Please leave,” he begs. “If that beam comes down, it’s gonna crush my windpipe, and where you’re sitting it’s going to get you too.”

“Absolutely not happening, Barton. Do you really think a roof is going to be the thing that takes you out?”

“No. I always figured it would be something ridiculous, like me falling in the shower and breaking my neck.”

“Exactly. We all have that embarrassing paperwork to look forward to, so don’t start convincing yourself that this is the end.”

“Sir -“

“I’m staying,” Phil says firmly. “And in a matter of moments, Thor will arrive, and you’ll be freed. We’re at zero fatalities for the day and you are not going to ruin my figures.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Clint says, then looks up as a shadow flickers past. “Please tell me -“

"Can I be of assistance, friends?" Thor asks, landing gently amongst the rubble.

Phil’s moment of relief is only visible for a second, and then he’s straight back in control. “We need this beam lifted now,” he says.

Thor sweeps it out of the way without hesitation, and Clint allows himself a sigh of relief, because maybe he won't actually die here today. “Please get me out of here,” he says.

Phil stands. “Thor, if you could? Please bear in mind his injuries.”

“I shall treat him like a delicate rose,” Thor promises, scooping Clint up carefully and taking him up and out of the hole in the roof. “Depart quickly, son of Coul. This building is not stable.”

“On it,” Phil says, already stepping back out of the building. “Is Steve awake yet?”

Thor takes Clint back down to the street, where Tony's just lifting Steve up. "Laying down on the job, Barton?" he asks.

"At least I'm awake," Clint says, mock-scandalised. "Steve's sleeping."

Steve chooses right then to come back to consciousness, blinking up at Tony in serious confusion. "What?" he asks.

"Well, hello sunshine," Tony says. "Don't try to fight the moment."

"What the fuck?" Steve says.

"You're concussed, Stevie," Bucky says. "Stay still and let Tony fly you to medical."

"'kay," Steve mumbles. "Clint okay?"

"Clint's fine," Clint says. "They might even let us share a room - except Phil's gonna spring me early since I don't have to be on concussion watch."

"Very funny," Phil says.

Clint pouts. "Don't make me stay overnight, sir, please?"

Phil just smiles, then brushes Clint's hair off his face and presses an unexpected kiss to his forehead. It speaks volumes as to how worried Phil has been - the lines are never blurred when they're in the field, even when they're only in the company of family. "Behave for medical," he says. "I'll be there in a few hours."

"I'll jailbreak if you aren't," Clint promises.

Phil rolls his eyes - and then he's back in charge. "Thor, Iron Man - if you could deliver these two safely to medical at ground HQ," he directs. "Make sure they know that Cap is severely concussed and Hawkeye has at least one break and possible spinal damage, and could probably do with a concussion check himself. Barnes, with me. We'll finish this row and then check in with the others."

"Yes, sir," Bucky says, kissing Steve's cheek before crossing to Phil's side.

"Still totally weird that you call him sir too," Clint says with a smirk.

Bucky and Phil roll their eyes in unison, and that's the last Clint sees as Tony and Thor lift off. Clint settles in and reluctantly awaits the hours ahead in medical - and the hours until he can see Phil again. He has a feeling that they have a hell of a decompression ahead of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The aftermath, switching back control, and decompressing.
> 
> I know Bucky is incredibly strong, but the strength chart I consulted advises me that Thor and Tony (suited up) have a strength level that well exceeds any of the other current Avengers. So just imagine a beam that's too heavy for Bucky but not too heavy for Thor, and creative license and all that, thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My heart stopped when I heard the wall go down," Phil says quietly. "The ten seconds it took until you spoke were some of the longest I've lived. I forgot how to breathe when I saw you trapped under that fucking pole with a roof about to come down on your head. Do not do that again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe it - I’m finally back. Info in bottom note if you want to know what took me so fucking long to get this out, I’m sorry.

By the time Clint hears Phil's voice in the corridor, his legs have been bandaged and ankle set, and he's been cleared for any spinal damage. Of course they haven't released him yet, because SHIELD are the most unnecessarily thorough when it comes to the health of their agents, and they're convinced that he could still potentially have concussion. He totally doesn't, but Clint doesn't mind too much - mainly because Steve's in the bed next to him, alert and oriented and definitely stuck for the night while they monitor him for his actual genuine concussion. Steve's claims of clearly being fine because he's Cap haven't worn down even the weakest willed of the medical staff, and Clint's pleased to see that their strict policies aren't just for him. 

But back to Phil, who's just stepping through the door, Bucky at his side, and two doctors behind them. "Hey, sir," Clint says. "Breaking me out?"

"Nice try, Barton," Phil says. "Who would you prefer doing your concussion monitoring?"

"One hundred percent you," Clint says immediately. "Preferably at home."

"I'm afraid I can only make one of those things happen," Phil says, and turns to Steve. "Same question."

"You and Bucky," Steve says with a nod. 

"Good," Phil says, and turns to the doctors. "They've consented." 

"They're still under the care of SHIELD medical -"

"I'm SHIELD," Phil says, in a tone that brooks no argument. "I've monitored many concussions in much worse situations - and we'll be here anyway, so we might as well just do it."

"Mr. Barnes -"

"Is a part of this team," Bucky says. "If I'm gonna be out there fighting with them, I need to know how to look after them too."

"He's SHIELD sanctioned as of this afternoon," Phil adds. “And do bear in mind that Captain Rogers is only a consultant with SHIELD and could technically leave right now if he chose to – and Agent Barton would break himself out the moment your backs are turned. Between myself and Barnes, I think we can keep them both here to be monitored. Discuss it if you must, but for now we’ll commence our care, thank you.”

Nobody argues - but then, nobody sane really argues with Phil once he's made his case clear. A night in medical is never fun, but with present company this might just be the exception. 

Well, the fun might have to wait until they've decompressed, Clint allows, as Phil closes the door and Bucky promptly bursts into tears. Steve looks startled, but also unsurprised, and holds out his arms so Bucky can collapse into him. "It's okay, babe," he murmurs. "Everybody's fine."

"You could have not been, you asshole. Don't do that to me again."

"You know I'm gonna."

"Of course I fucking know that. Shut up and hold me."

Phil sits down next to Clint, who reaches for his hand. "Not gonna cry at my bedside?" he teases lightly. 

"I've been here enough times to be used to it," Phil says dryly, but squeezes Clint's hand pretty tight anyway. "For the record, don't do that again. Do you know how much paperwork I have to do now?"

Clint pouts. "Touching," he says flatly. 

Phil rolls his eyes, then leans closer to press a kiss to Clint's forehead. "My heart stopped when I heard the wall go down," he says quietly. "The ten seconds it took until you spoke were some of the longest I've lived. I forgot how to breathe when I saw you trapped under that fucking pole with a roof about to come down on your head. Do not do that again."

"I'll try. But boy can you run."

Phil smiles. "Half of my paperwork is dealing with the write up I'm going to get for defying direct orders from Hill and going in there before they could make sure the place was stable. For the record, the roof collapsed less than a minute after you left.”

"My hero," Clint says playfully - but also completely seriously. Phil always has been, after all. 

Phil rolls his eyes again, then releases Clint’s hand and straightens up. “So, Barton, you’re off active duty for a few weeks,” he says.

“Aw, sir, no,” Clint groans, even though he saw it coming. “Not paperwork, please?”

“Junior accuracy training,” Phil says. “Two classes a day for the next two weeks. The rest of the time will be used for, yes, catching up on paperwork -“ he holds up a hand against Clint’s second groan, “ - and working with R&D, particularly on boots with better ankle support.”

Clint nods at that - this isn’t the first ankle injury he’s sustained, though most come from falling rather than being fallen on. “Hey, did you get your medical clearance?” he asks.

“Of course I did.” Phil wiggles his left index finger, which has a bandage on it. “One potentially rusty nail scrape, one tetanus shot, done and done. Bucky didn’t get so much as a scratch.”

“Correction,” Bucky says after blowing his nose, “I got a nasty scratch, but it’ll need to be buffed out instead of bandaged up.”

Clint looks at the scratch down Bucky’s metal arm and laughs. “Tony’ll fix that for you.” He looks back at Phil, eyebrow raised. “Anything else, sir?”

“No, that’s all the official stuff,” Phil says. “Technically I’m overseeing as your superior officer for the night - but fuck that.”

“Totally fuck that,” Clint agrees, taking Phil’s hand again as Phil relaxes. “You all good? I love you, by the way.”

Phil smiles. “I love you too - and yes, I’m fine.” There’s a flicker of emotion in his eyes for a second, then it’s gone - but Clint understands. Phil isn’t fine, but right now he’s in charge of everybody in the room, and also in public. He can’t decompress here, not like he needs to, and Clint will allow the lie to stand for now. “What do you want for dinner?” Phil continues. “It’s pretty late but somewhere should be open - I can run out and pick something up?"

"Let's sort that out later, okay? Just stay here and look pretty for now - it's helping my recovery considerably."

Phil rolls his eyes, blushing. "However I can help best," he says. 

“How do you two do that?” Bucky demands. 

Phil blinks. “Do what?"

“ _Switch_.”

Phil laughs, and Clint grins. “I don’t have much choice in the matter,” he says. “Phil puts on the boss voice and calls me Barton, and I fall in line.”

“We’ve had some issues with it in the past,” Phil says more seriously. “Usually after any field work, we handle everything officially with Clint giving his report and tidying up any loose ends, before going home and checking in on a personal level. But in situations like this, or ones where I don’t get to see Clint until we both get home, it can be harder because my initial instinct is to go personal, but I also need to be the boss. So now I do an initial check-in with Clint, then pass on any notes to Barton, then back to Clint. It works… better than it used to.”

Clint squeezes his hand. “It’s just about having that set time to talk about the work things,” he says. “Once Phil says it’s over, the rest of the night is about the two of us. Granted, we’ve never done this part under SHIELD’s roof before, but I think we can cope.”

"I don't think I'll be spending any time on my knees," Phil says, pulling a face as he looks at the floor. 

"I don't blame you. You can share my bed."

"I could, but then I'll be tempted to sleep. Someone needs to stay awake all night and keep an eye on you two." 

"I'm not concussed," Clint promises. 

Phil smiles. "I still have to be responsible, or else they won't let us stay. For all that I've refused to so much as refer to you by your first name, they all immediately start looking at me as your sub once you're hurt."

"I'd tell them off for it, but that'd just make things worse." Clint rests his hand on the back of Phil's neck, stroking the soft leather of his collar. "Aside from the fact that they should treat you like you want to be treated, it's sad how people don't get that subs are the best people to responsibly look after their Doms. All you have to do is give me those eyes and I won't even think of leaving this bed."

"It helps that he's always kept you in line anyway," Steve comments, smirking at them from the other bed. "But I agree with you, Phil. Bucky's made it clear that I'm not to so much as blink without his permission until we know I'm free of concussion." 

"And I sure don't remember giving you permission to talk," Bucky says. 

“Don't push it," Steve warns - but fondly, as he strokes Bucky's hair. "I'm happy to have my boy looking after me, but you know what happens if you try to Dom me."

"What happens?" Clint asks curiously. 

Steve chuckles. "I'll let him," he says. "If Bucky wants to be bossy, I'll sub for him."

"And that's not giving him what he wants?"

"Holy shit no," Bucky says. "It's fun to pretend that I can tell Steve what to do, and I love to get a bit toppy in the right situation, but I can't handle having a sub relying on me for orders. Freaks me right out. And Steve'll do it for a whole day before he goes back to Domming." 

When Clint looks at Phil, he sees him pulling a similar face. "Not ideal for you either, huh?" Clint asks. It’s not something they’ve ever discussed – it’s not something Clint has ever considered either. Subbing is definitely not his cup of tea, nor does Domming seem to appeal to Phil, and he has a feeling that Phil giving him orders outside of work would just mess with both of their heads too much to ever work.

"Not particularly,” Phil confirms. “I'm good at bossy for fun, and I can do toppy -"

"Oh, can you?" Clint asks. 

Phil blushes a little, and swiftly moves on. "Anyway, point is, I'm not comfortable with the idea of being a Dom to you. Moments of bossiness are fine - having you sub and it being more real isn't."

Clint nods, and files the blushing away in the same place he's holding the fact that Phil was the one who deemed the clause about switching as unnecessary in their new contract. It's good information for him to ponder over, and at some point he'll do something with it. 

Definitely not while they're with company - and especially not under SHIELD's roof. For now, Clint shifts the conversation to easier topics. "So, hey, Bucky's finally sanctioned?" he asks. 

Phil rolls his eyes. "I did the paperwork for him. It took all of ten minutes."

"You can call me Agent Barnes," Bucky says, grinning. 

"Probational Agent Barnes," Phil corrects. "To reach Junior Agent, you need to come in for classes and training for at least 40 contact hours a week."

"Fuck that. Who'd cook for Steve?"

"Same person who cooks for Clint," Phil says with a smirk. "It's usually the Thai place."

"Or the diner where we totally had a date booked for tonight," Clint says, sighing. "Sorry, baby."

"I think I can forgive you," Phil says dryly. "It's just down the road, anyway. I can bring some over if they’re still open."

Clint checks the time, surprised by how late it is. "Let's do that," he agrees. "Before they get the chance to deliver cafeteria food."

Everybody pulls a face, in perfect agreement about the quality of the food. Bucky stays to be the 'responsible carer' and Phil takes food orders and heads out, crossing paths with a doctor as they head in. Another round of examinations ensues, Clint and Steve rolling their eyes at each other while Bucky hovers protectively next to Steve’s bed, but the verdict is positive on two fronts – both have been cleared of head injuries and only need to stay for another twelve hours for monitoring; and the medical staff have agreed that Phil and Bucky can provide that monitoring. It was inevitable, of course, but it’s still a relief when they go and Bucky takes over again. “I like this being in charge thing,” Bucky says, smirking.

“Don’t enjoy it too much,” Steve warns.

“Yeah, I know. I just like it on a level where SHIELD actually has to give me a tiny bit of respect now. Actually looking after you two isn’t appealing.”

“We’re not that badly behaved,” Clint protests, smiling.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’ll let Phil be the responsible one who actually looks after things, because I know I’m gonna get sick of it and just want to be Steve’s sub again.”

“Phi’s used to it,” Clint says. “He’ll manage.”

"Phil copes seriously well with this shit," Bucky says.

Clint sighs and nods. "In one way, yes, he's used to it and is way better at compartmentalising than I am. But I also know it's really hard for him to have to stay in control and treat me impassively and professionally out there if I'm hurt. Today was a close call, and he had to be the one giving the orders and doing the calming down. And since we’re still on base, he can’t decompress properly. As soon as we get home, he’s going to have a lot of emotions to deal with.”

“Yeah, he’s not good at crying around others, is he?” Steve asks.

“Fuck no. I mean, you only get to the top in SHIELD by learning how to switch off every emotion when they become inconvenient, so he’s used to only being his complete true self when he’s alone – or, these days, with me. He was at a point where he just repressed it all and wouldn’t decompress from anything and then completely melt down at inconvenient times and… well, you guys saw that once.”

They both nod. “That was brutal,” Bucky says. “And we didn’t even see the melting down – but Phil’s told me about it. Did he ever tell you that, in that moment he saw you in the doorway, he thought you were there to take his collar back?”

Clint winces. “Jesus. No, he never did. He tells you a lot, doesn’t he?”

Bucky nods. “He never tells me things and keeps them from you, though,” he says. “Oh, except for that time of _but Bucky, what if he thinks it’s an insult being asked to be recollared this early, what if he gets offended about me wanting a new collar, what if he doesn’t want a nice ceremony_ \- good god, for someone so calm and competent all the fucking time, he’s a real worrier.”

“He is,” Clint says, smiling fondly. “But at least now he has people to talk those worries out with, and talk to about things before they eat him up inside. Decompressing tomorrow will be painful, but it’ll be a damn sight better than if he decompresses involuntarily in six months time when something else tips him over the edge and he has to deal with everything.”

“Is it easier when you’re not on his team?” Steve asks. “Decompressing, I mean. Is there less for him to work through if he wasn’t in charge and someone else has been giving the orders in that situation?”

Clint laughs. “Oh god, no,” he says. “He’s twice as bad if I get hurt on someone else’s watch – if he doesn’t personally witness the cause of the injury, the exact severity of it, how hard I hit the ground, whether I blacked out or not… point is, he’ll grill the person who was in charge to find out exactly what happened, stay by my side the entire time I’m getting my medical evaluation, then take me home and run through his own checklist until he’s satisfied that he’s aware of every single scratch. And _then_ he gets to decompress.”

“That’s a protective sub for you,” Bucky says.

“Oh, no,” Clint says, smirking. “This has been going on for about five years now. The decompressing afterwards bit is the only part that’s been added now that he’s mine.”

“Does he fuss this much about all of his agents?”

“No. I mean, he cares about them all, of course, and he always gets a report and drops by medical to make sure they’re okay, but I’m the only one that gets the eighth degree.” Clint looks at the two curious faces and sighs. “About six months after I became fully qualified and earned the right to start working on other teams and going solo, Phil learned that I was ducking medical exams and lying about the severity of my injuries because I thought they’d take me out of the field. He suspended me for a week, hauled me in for a complete medical evaluation of every injury I’ve ever received, and wouldn’t let me work under anybody else for the next six months.”

“That’s intense,” Steve says.

“It’s probably the kindest thing anybody’s ever done for me,” Clint says quietly. “I kept getting told that I was going to be one of the best agents SHIELD’s ever produced, and I felt more and more like I had to be an invincible machine. Phil made it clear that being the best agent means being good to yourself and your body and taking time to recover so you can fight your best the next time. He also made it clear that I’m valued as a person, not a weapon. That helped.”

“It certainly stopped some of the reckless endangerment of your life I had seen happening,” Phil says, closing the door behind himself. “SHIELD have enough weapons – the people who wield them need to be people.”

“And how long were you listening in for?” Clint asks, smiling.

“The real question is, what happened to your observation skills?” Phil asks back. “A SHIELD agent of your calibre should have picked up on me standing out there at least thirty seconds ago.”

“Nice deflection,” Clint says, taking his food. “I guess I can’t really scold you for eavesdropping when we were gossiping about you anyway.”

“Yeah, I feel like I should feel bad about that,” Bucky says.

Phil shrugs. “I’m sure you two talk about us as much as Clint and I talk about you – and I’m sure Clint and Steve talk about us as much as we talk about them. We all know where to draw the line.”

That much is true – there are a lot of times that Clint might bring something to Steve, as a fellow Dom, to ask for advice or just to vent, but there are others that will never go outside of himself and Phil, no matter how nice it might be to get an outside opinion. He trusts that the sub gossip is the same. It’s a great thing to have friends who can understand and relate to the things they experience, but privacy is even more important to all of them.

Which, really, is why overnight observation like this truly sucks. After a day in the field, no matter how emotionally taxing it may or may not have been, Clint needs nothing more than to get away from SHIELD and be alone. Luckily today he hasn’t had to kill anybody – on those days, nothing will keep Clint on base any longer than he absolutely needs to be. Today he just wants to be at home, behind his impressive security systems, where he can finally drop his guard. No matter how secure SHIELD is, Clint never feels completely safe these days unless he’s in the Tower.

He knows the others feel the same. Phil, still officially on duty, is the most alert and focused of them all. Bucky looks the most relaxed, but Clint can see the watchful eye he’s keeping over Steve. Even Steve, who looks like would like nothing more than to sleep right now, is far from the relaxed person Clint usually sees back at the Tower.

It has to be done, though. Phil has to stick to protocol, and Clint goes along with it, if for nothing else, to make Phil’s life easier.

Once they’re done with dinner, Bucky draws the chair as close to Steve as he can, playing with his hair and talking quietly to him. Clint and Phil share a smile and keep their own conversation quiet until Steve finally gives up and falls asleep. “Nicely done,” Phil says after a few minutes. “Now you get to wake him up in two hours.”

Bucky pulls a face. “Do we actually have to do that?”

“SHIELD insists. I’ll do the waking if you don’t want to.”

“Nah,” Bucky says, smirking a little. “This way I get to annoy him and he can’t punish me.”

Phil rolls his eyes, turning back to Clint as Bucky pulls out his phone to set a timer. “You should get some sleep,” Phil murmurs.

Clint chuckles. “Please. You mean I should doze intermittently while you wake me up every few hours, even though you know full well I don’t have a concussion?”

“You know full well that I have to do it.”

“I know.” Clint kisses his forehead, then sighs and closes his eyes. “Okay. See you in a few.”

“Please don’t try to punch me in the face this time.”

“I’ll do my very best not to.”

***

The night passes in a typical concussion monitoring haze. Clint wakes up every couple of hours, reluctantly opens his eyes and answers a couple of questions, then falls back asleep for what feels like five seconds before doing it again. He’s had worse – having actual concussion always makes it a lot harder – and had worse people monitoring; Phil is as gentle and quick as he can be and Clint doesn’t hold it against him. Better this than actual medical staff – they insist on turning all the lights on every single time. Phil is more considerate than that.

Eventually the waking stops. Clint doesn’t sleep much longer, though, too used to the constant waking, but he feels more put together when he finally does wake up naturally. It’s just after eight when he does, and the first thing he sees is Steve and Bucky, somehow crammed into the tiny hospital bed together, both fast asleep. Clint raises an eyebrow, then turns to his other side. "I let him go off duty," Phil murmurs before Clint can ask, setting down his tablet and rubbing his eyes. "You were both cleared an hour ago – you’re free to leave.”

"Good," Clint says, sitting up and holding out his arms to Phil. "Then you can sleep."

"Sleep would be wonderful," Phil mumbles, slumping against his shoulder. "I forgot how much I hate concussion monitoring - watching a room of sleeping people, having to stay wide awake, then being the asshole who wakes them up."

"I appreciate you for it, baby."

"Thanks," Phil says, and yawns. "When we get home, I'm going to get so clingy. Just a heads up."

Clint nods. Phil hasn't had a chance to decompress yet, and though tiredness will probably win out when they get home, at some point today things are going to get emotional. "I'll keep you company while you sleep," Clint says, gently nudging Phil away, "but for now you've got to stay awake. Want to get all our shit together and find me some fancy walking sticks?"

"I can do that," Phil says, standing up. "I'll be back soon."

While Phil goes, Clint deals with awkwardly getting dressed around a cast, then leans over and pokes Bucky awake. “You’re in charge now,” he says as Bucky glares at him from under a tangle of hair. “Phil and I are going home.”

“I don’t do being in charge,” Bucky mutters.

Steve chuckles sleepily. “Yeah, you do, Probational Agent Barnes. It’s that or we have to get up, get dressed, go all the way home –“

“Fine, I’m in charge. First order – back to sleep. Both of us.”

Steve opens his eyes purely to roll them at Clint, who smiles. “How’s the head?” Clint asks.

“Feeling fine. Injuries?”

“Standard. I’m sure I’ll be on bed rest – which is convenient because Phil’s going to be in that bed for many hours catching up on sleep.”

“Don’t even talk to me about sleep,” Phil says as he returns, yawning and handing Clint a set of crutches. “We need to wake Bucky – he’s in charge.”

“He is awake.” Clint looks back down and frowns. “He… was awake.”

Steve laughs. “He’s awake, don’t worry. He’s just grumpy about it.”

Phil smiles tiredly. “Good. Ready to go, Clint?”

Clint nods and stands. He’s a pro at crutches now, and easily gets himself sorted, far more steady than Phil, who's swaying slightly with tiredness. "You gonna be okay, baby?" Clint asks. 

Phil nods, then visibly draws on his reserve energy, putting on his agent face. "You're good to sign out once they've given Steve a final check," he says to Bucky, who sighs and opens his eyes again. "Sleep more first if you like, of course. Make sure they know you're his next of kin and responsible for his follow up observation. If there's any problems, get them to call me. I'll be tired so I'll snap at them, and that'll solve it."

"Will do. Go home and sleep."

Phil yawns. "I will," he says. "If there's any issues, call.... I already said that, didn't I?"

Clint chuckles. "C'mon, sweetheart, let's go." He understands Phil's particular brand of tiredness - spending a whole night awake while others sleep is one of the most exhausting things to do, not to mention all of the emotions Phil has probably tried not to feel during all of those hours awake. Clint needs to take him home and look after him.

They make it out without running into anybody, and Phil nearly passes out on Clint's shoulder on the way home. Clint pets his hair, then feels awful for waking him up and making him walk all the way to their front door - even though it's a matter of steps from the lift. Phil makes it, though, dumping all of their things right inside the door and heading straight for the bedroom. “Off duty,” he murmurs, and Clint hears him collapse onto the bed a moment later.

Smiling fondly, Clint sets his things down, checks their messages, and then follows Phil to the bedroom. By the time he gets there, Phil is dead to the world, and Clint wastes no time in joining him. He’s not going to sleep any more himself, but he’s got half a season of Dog Cops to watch and a tired sub to keep company. Really, there’s nowhere else Clint would rather be.

***

Sadly, it doesn’t last long. Not two hours later, Phil’s phone starts ringing, the caller ID displaying the SHIELD medical bay. Clint grabs it immediately and rejects the call – Phil can wake from any depth of sleep when his phone rings, and Clint wants to avoid that.

Of course it immediately starts ringing again, and Clint sighs and answers, petting Phil’s hair when he shifts slightly, trying to coax him back to sleep. “What?” Clint snaps as quietly as he can.

“Agent Coulson?”

“Nope.”

“Barton, then.”

“Points for deduction.” Clint sighs when he realizes Phil is definitely awake now – of course he wasn’t going to sleep through this. “What do you want?”

"We need to speak with Agent Coulson."

"He's sleeping," Clint says firmly. 

"We need his authorisation for Mr. Barnes to take over Captain Rogers' care -"

“He gave you that. I was there.”

"Is it about Bucky?" Phil mutters, and holds out his hand. "Gimme."

"All yours," Clint says, smiling fondly as he watches Phil fumble the phone. He loves barely-awake Phil so much. 

"Right," Phil says once he's got the phone to his ear. "Who the fuck am I talking to? Because I already authorised Barnes, and I also spent the whole night on concussion duty myself, so I'm sleeping and you're getting in the goddamn way of that." He pauses, then sighs. "Well then, perhaps you need to get more thorough notes at the shift change, as protocol dictates. Rogers can go home, Barnes can take him there, and you can be the one to explain to Director Fury why I'm now invoking a Clause 12-C and switching my phone off. Good luck."

He hangs up and mashes the screen until the phone powers off - somehow, Phil hasn't opened his eyes at all during the process, which makes it even more amusing. "I love you," Clint says, trying not to laugh. 

"Because I'm an awful person?" Phil says around a yawn, handing the phone back. "Glad you love my flaws. Back to sleep now."

"You do that."

Phil immediately does. Clint keeps petting his hair, puts his headphones back on, and hits play.

***

They get four more hours before the next interruption. Clint sighs and answers it quickly, pulling an apologetic face when Phil opens his eyes – he was making motions towards waking soon anyway, but it’s always nicer to wake naturally than to a phone call. "Barton," Clint says.

"Good," Fury says, and hangs up. 

"What?" Clint asks his phone. 

Phil chuckles tiredly. "He's making sure he can still get hold of me," he explains. "I'm not actually allowed to go off the grid."

"Ever?"

"Ever," Phil confirms, curling closer to Clint. "It's in my contract. Even if I'm on leave, I've got to be contactable. Only exceptions are if a loved one is dying."

"Jesus," Clint says. "That's intense."

"Sure is." Phil yawns and rubs his eyes. "Nick's real good about respecting holidays though. Keeps me in the loop, but doesn't ruin my time off. Let's take some of that soon, by the way."

"Yeah?" Clint asks. "We did just honeymoon."

Phil shrugs. "Life's short."

Clint understands now, smoothing Phil's hair back. “Today was a bit too close for comfort,” he agrees.

Phil nods. "I'm not saying quit our jobs and hide away from everything dangerous - we'd both go stir crazy in a day. But maybe we can start taking, I don't know, proper weekends? Maybe even weekend getaways that don't involve a safe house? Because when we go, we go, and we've both accepted that, but it doesn't mean I can't devote a bit more of my life to being with you."

"I love you," Clint says softly. "Yes, to all of that. Let's give a little less to SHIELD, so we can make the most of us."

"Thank you." Phil yawns again. "God, how long did I sleep?"

"A couple of hours. Are you waking up now?"

Phil pulls a face. "Yes, but can we just do nothing for the rest of the day?“

"Sure," Clint agrees easily. "I don't think I should be moving around too much anyway."

"Shit, of course you shouldn't," Phil says. "How are your legs? Does it hurt? Do you need anything?"

Clint chuckles fondly. "It's cute when you fret over me," he says. "I'm fine, baby. We'll both need food soon, and I should probably do more painkillers when we eat, but for now I'm very happy to stay right here." He sighs, his mood dipping a little. "Can't believe it's another broken ankle."

"Same one as last time too," Phil says. "Can I be a bit bossy for a second?"

"Sure?"

"Don't you dare decide this time that the day the cast comes off you can go for a two mile run."

Clint rolls his eyes, but sheepishly. "Yeah, okay, I know," he says. "I just hate feeling cooped up."

"I know. I'll try to schedule you for some more interesting stuff. You did say you were interested in beginners coding but never had the time."

Clint perks up. "Now that's a great idea," he says, kissing Phil's forehead. "Thanks sweetheart. I'm always glad I've got you in my corner."

"I'll always be there," Phil says, before sitting up and stretching. "Okay, food."

Clint watches him go, sighing quietly. Phil’s running off the last of his control - he’s handed it all back officially of course, now that he’s subbing again, but he’s now using the emotional control that comes with being useful and having a purpose. Clint gets it - coming face to face with all the suppressed emotions of something traumatic sucks, and Clint would be fighting it hard if he had been in Phil’s shoes yesterday. But Phil needs to deal with his emotions properly. It’s one of his weak points, and something Clint always does his best to help with. Today is no exception.

For now, Clint just grabs his crutches and follows Phil out to the kitchen. He receives a half-hearted glare, which Clint just returns with a smirk, swinging himself up onto the counter. “Don’t act like you don’t like me around,” he says.

Phil just rolls his eyes and keeps making sandwiches. His hands are perfectly steady, but Phil’s shoulders are just a little too tight. They both know what comes next, and neither of them are looking forward to it.

Before that, though, Clint has a question. "So, remember that time you went into seriously scary sub drop?" he asks.

Phil raises an eyebrow. "No, that awful and very memorable event has completely slipped my mind," he deadpans. "Yes, I remember. What about it?"

"I switched your phone off."

"Ah," Phil says. "Yes, I did get spoken to briefly about that. After reminding them that I wasn't legally able to make any decisions, that I was contactable through six people and an AI if necessary, and that obviously they wouldn't be calling me for an emergency op because I couldn't so much as walk without crying... well, I think the point was made. As my Dom, the second they can't get hold of me, they'll be calling you. Sorry."

"Why? If they can't get hold of you, and you're not with me, then I'd damn well want to know about it. And if you are with me, and you're not in a frame of mind to go in, I have no qualms about telling them to fuck off."

Phil smiles. “Well, hopefully we won’t have to deal with that again any time soon.”

Clint nods, and takes his plate from Phil. He’ll wait until they’re done eating before bringing up the real conversation they need to have.

Once they’re done and everything is cleared away, Clint gently orders Phil back into bed. “Okay,” Clint says when they’re settled. “It’s over, everybody’s okay, and you’ve handed control back. You need to come down now.”

“I really hate decompressing,” Phil says. His hands are already beginning to shake. 

"I know," Clint says. "Slow and gentle, or rip the band-aid off?"

"Just get it done."

Clint nods, and meets Phil's eyes. "I could have died yesterday," he says. "If it had been another minute, I might not be here today."

That's all it takes. Phil breaks, sudden and sharp, and Clint draws him close and doesn't let go. 

While Phil’s sobbing into his shoulder, Clint takes time to do his own decompression. He hasn’t faced up to how close yesterday was, and gives himself a stern talking to about checking foundations and not getting complacent in the field. Just because all of the other houses had been structurally sound didn’t mean they should presume that they all were, and Clint had nearly paid the price for that.

It’s also a reminder to update his will. All of his money will still be going to charity since Phil has more than enough of his own to live off, but Clint needs to change the part where all of his contents are sold as Phil will probably want some of those when Clint dies -

And then Clint snaps himself back to reality, firmly stops thinking about death, and focuses on Phil.

“Please quit,” Phil murmurs into his shoulder. “Don’t go back. It’s going to kill you and I can’t live without you.”

Clint stays quiet. Phil doesn’t mean any of it – Clint has the same thoughts when Phil is the injured one, but once the meltdown is over, neither actually want the other to quit. Clint also isn’t worried about Phil’s claim of not being able to live without him – of course he could, and would if he had to.

But right now, he doesn’t have to. Clint rubs his back and waits it out.

The tears eventually quiet, then stop. Clint doesn’t let go, shifting one hand to press more firmly against Phil’s collar. At the end of a decompression, Phil sometimes slips slightly down to subspace, just enough that his tired mind doesn’t need to think about anything. Clint lets him go if he needs to, but keeps him grounded.

Phil doesn’t go anywhere today. After a few minutes, he sighs and looks up, Clint loosening his hold enough that they can meet each other’s eyes. “If I actually asked you that seriously,” Phil says, “would you do it?”

“Quit my job and never go back?” Phil nods, and Clint sighs. “Yes. And that’s why you’ll never ask.”

Phil nods again. “Not only that. Because it would kill you in other ways to not be able to do your job. And because I love you and wouldn’t ask it of you. It hurts more than anything when you get hurt like that, when you get that close to dying… but it’s what you do and love. If you weren’t the type of person who did what you do, you wouldn’t be this person, and this person is who I love.”

Clint kisses him. “All of that back at you, sweet boy.”

Phil closes his eyes and rests his forehead on Clint’s shoulder. Clint strokes his hair and stays quiet as Phil finally and completely settles, the weight of the past twenty-four hours falling away.

“Clint?” Phil murmurs after a few minutes of silence.

Clint smiles – he knows that tone. “Yeah, baby?”

“Can I spend some time on the floor?”

“Sure. You know where it is.” Phil sighs and lifts his head to give Clint a look, who laughs and kisses his forehead. “Sorry, dearest. Yes, of course you can. Let’s go to the couch – bring your cuffs too, if you want.”

Phil rummages a pair out of the box and follows Clint out of the bedroom and to the couch. He waits while Clint settles, then sinks to his knees when Clint nods for him to do so, holding out the cuffs. Clint locks them in place, keeping Phil’s hands in front of him, and Phil rests his head on Clint’s knee, bound hands on the couch beside them. “Thank you,” Phil says softly, closing his eyes.

“My pleasure, beautiful.” There’s a chime at the door, and the tone announces that it’s Natasha. “Do you mind?” Clint asks.

Phil shakes his head. “Not the first time.”

It certainly isn’t. Clint instructs JARVIS to open the door, smiling at Natasha when she enters. She glances down at Phil momentarily, sees his eyes are closed, and turns her attention from him completely. Natasha has no qualms about chatting with Phil while he’s in sub mode, nor does she mind ignoring him when he needs to be left alone. “Just came to check that you actually were alive,” she says to Clint, shaking her head when he waves at a chair. “As a fellow Avenger, I’d be mortified if you went out to a wall of all things.”

“I’d have altered his records to make it seem more heroic,” Phil murmurs.

Natasha laughs. “Glad to hear it.” She leans over to kiss Clint’s forehead, smirking when he pulls a face. “Anyway, I’ll need a new sparring partner for a couple of months, so thanks for that.”

“We’ll work around that,” Clint stage-whispers.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Phil says.

“And I’ll see myself out,” Natasha completes, and does so.

Clint sighs and returns to stroking Phil’s hair. “Do you think maybe we’ll get a quiet couple of months?” he asks hopefully.

Phil chuckles, soft and content. “Not now. You’ve jinxed it.”

“Probably. As long as I’m off crutches for the wedding. Have they set a date?”

“Maybe. Don’t remember.”

Clint smiles. “Sorry. Drift away, sweet boy.”

Phil does. Clint stays still and quiet, taking simple comfort and happiness from the life that one wall nearly took away. Each new near-death experience only shows Clint how much more fulfilled and rewarding his life has gotten since the last, and reminds him to be more careful with his life.

It’ll only be a matter of time until the next one, of course. They’ll get through that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next fic: Steve and Bucky's wedding. An emotional rollercoaster in many ways.
> 
> Okay, here’s the ‘where have I been/what’s the future of this series’ speech. This is my current status of life:
> 
> 1) Work got insane, more busy than ever before. It shows no signs of slowing. Work saps creativity, big time. I want to just come home and be a consumer rather than a creator. It’s only because I’m currently on holiday that I got this posted.  
> 2) I joined a new fandom. When I join a fandom, I tend to give my all to that fandom, which makes it difficult if I am still working on fic for an old one. It doesn’t help that this new one also has a person named Phil who is adorable and kind-hearted and has incredible blue eyes and is precious and should be protected at all costs.  
> 3) I killed my laptop. It is 100% dead. Thank god I had 90% of my work backed up, but some stuff is gone for good. I had to mourn the laptop, then move everything over to my PC, then readjust to working on a PC again. It’s weird how long it took to adjust – I’ve written all of my fanfiction on Macbooks up until now. It feels wrong.  
> 4) (and most importantly) I have tendonitis in my right wrist and had a bad flare up in November that hasn’t quite settled yet. I have to take it a lot easier these days with my writing, and I can’t sit at a computer for as long, especially not after a full day of work. 
> 
> All that said, I still fully intend to finish this series. As long as there is still an audience wanting to read, I want to write it. I know what’s left to be written, I know how it ends, and I’ve got some things coming up that I’m really excited to write. I will get them written, but it won’t be as fast as people want. I’m sorry. Just know that I have always said that I don’t abandon series and this is not going to be the one that proves me a liar.


End file.
